Master of the Maestro
by fiction of fans
Summary: Edward Cullen is a genius, musical prodigy. He rules the scene of 18th Century composers. Nobody has been able to conquer his mastery of notes, but one can capture his heart: Sebastian Howle, a typical onlooker, who, like Edward, shares repressed homosexuality. This short tale, crafted by Ant1gon3 and I, deals with oppression, sexuality, servitude and dangerous love. Historic slash
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One-Performances**

Snow-white, dainty fingers danced upon the onyx keys of the harpsichord in a triumphant cadenza as the crowd watched on in awe. The performer drew up to an angelic ascent and ended with a trill, cueing the orchestra's return into the piece passionately. The harpsichordist, who was also the composer and conductor, had a proud grin on his refined countenance when he took a glance at the listeners. They were all transfixed by the perfect and pristine melody. The sharp, high notes and emotive, low keys conjured up feelings in them they'd never felt before. One such person, whose description was far more advanced than the rest, gazed on at, not the orchestra, but the harpsichord's master. Although the music was beautiful, its creator was clearly the conqueror. Many of the audience wouldn't have found him attractive, but to Sebastian Howle, he was a surprise of sanguinity.

The keyboard concerto had a fantastic flourish of a finale. It roused greatness in the audience. The sound of the violins, violas, cellos and oboes still seemed to echo off the walls, as if the theatre was pleading for an encore. But it was not to be; Edward Cullen had to move on swiftly; he was the most famous composer in all of Europe and this demanded hundreds of performances. Already at the age of twenty and he'd vanquished seventeen European tours. Maestro Edward adored playing music, yet his domineering father seemed to be forcing him to play with such saturation that he thought at any moment he'd rebel against it.

The maestro bowed to the crowd, receiving many cheers. He looked around at the smiling faces, caring not for those he saw. Except one, the one of his newest admirer; Sebastian. It wasn't a lengthy look, nor was it one of conspicuous expressions, but it beheld the swiftness of electricity endured in the interlude of a second. Edward straightened his powdered wig, shook hands with the lead violinist, and left the stage in this brilliant ornate structure in central Manchester. He was to move at speed to his carriage and then make his way to Leeds, York, Edinburgh, Glasgow and then race back down to London for the conclusion of his year long tour. In all honesty, he was glad it was ending, however, he knew his father would be arranging an eighteenth.  
The year was 1778, in autumn, and times in the musical realm were hastily changing. Not only in those waters were they altering either; in the sphere of homosexuality, there seemed to be many gentlemen's clubs sprouting up in all of the major cities in Europe. Of course, they were all underground and unapproachable by a heterosexual.  
Sebastian Howle was pleased when he overheard talk of these clubs, scanning through an apathetical tome in Manchester's inspiring, circular library. It had been a week after the sell-out performance of Edward's concerto, and still was it plaguing on his confused mind. This, in turn, led to the thoughts he imagined he'd suppressed; thoughts of homosexual lust! He was both repulsed and reputed by the fantasy of kissing Edward Cullen's peach-practising lips, the fantasy of the composer trailing his soothing kisses up from Sebastian's hand, to his elbow, along his shoulder and upon his vulnerable neck.  
Thus, when news had invaded his ears of these gentlemen's clubs, he was intrigued. He had to find a way to get rid of this dire desire.  
At nine in the afternoon, on a chilly Tuesday, Sebastian sneaked from his room in the university's campus and walked down Oxford Road, keeping his head down at all times. He'd heard that the gentlemen's' club was without a legitimate name, so as not to be a pinpoint to the authorities, though it did have a nickname: The Alley. Sebastian, being an innocent nineteen year old, raised to believe any conjuration of lustful thoughts was a sin, knew not the implication of this name, instead suggesting it was perhaps because it was down an alleyway. Made perfect sense.  
When he discovered the club, to much difficulty, he found that it was a cesspool of promiscuous prats. The building was abysmal in both stench and structure; it was near the canal, literally overlooking the murky water. There were men having sex right there, men leading man into the back rooms and men, being in the same position as Sebastian, watching on warily.  
Immediately, Sebastian turned around in a huff and fled for the university. He was outraged that such acts were committed so carelessly. Why do the homosexuals of today have no respect for themselves? he thought.

With stealth, he made it to his bedroom. He plopped his head on the pillow and sighed with such sorrow that the howling of the wind outside was a weak opponent to its misery. He knew he'd have to marry a woman, have children and die. He'd never have a happy life; he was compelled to condemnation. Was the bearer of his past life a fiend? Had he done something wrong? Why had fate bestowed this gift of gall upon him? It was clear to him now that there was no light at the end of this tunnel; the only true candle or flicker was music. He would submerge himself in music to drown out his thoughts.

Meanwhile, miles away, in London, Edward Cullen was accepting gifts from his fans after his keyboard concerto. "Thank you, friends, it means much to be the target of your arrow of kindness," His voice was hoarse, chained.  
Edward had had no encounters like the one in Manchester, with the boy of brown hair and pale skin, sharp nose and rosy lips. He was harbouring sinful thoughts of homosexuality again. He'd always done it; ever since he was a child. When he played for kings and queens, he was always hopeful of a kiss from a prince. But a kiss never arrived.  
Still, he stifled the relentless reveries, as always.  
Two hours had past, and Edward was at his grand manor in west London. His father was charting up the money brought in by his genius son and his mother was sat at the window, gazing out plaintively. The house, though of happy furniture, was without the former description. It was depressing, controlled by Carlisle Cullen's firm hand. "Edward," He bellowed to his child who was improvising on the pianoforte.  
"Yes, father?" He replied, retracting his fingers from the keys.  
"In about two months you'll commence in another tour; we have made buckets of money from this one, so we need to reap more," Carlisle's tone was sour and greedy.  
Edward's eyes had a melancholic glaze over them for a brief moment, but he wiped it away, "Of course, father. I shall do as you wish."  
"It'll just be in Britain though; Europe takes too much time. I think you should spend a bit more time in Manchester; your performance sold out there faster than anywhere else. Right, dismissed."  
And lo, Edward nodded, headed off to his room and began to compose another jolly, artificial piece for the upcoming tour. He named it the 'Eine Kleine Nachtmusik', in honour of his German fans...

This was written by 'fictionoffans'. Ant1gon3 shall write the next chapter. Hope you enjoyed it!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 **

Lord Cullen hadn't accompanied his progeny for this segment of the tour. Edward felt relief from the smothering weight of his father's expectations. He vowed that this would be the last tour. He could no longer feed his father's insatiable need for wealth and prominence. He was a mere puppet on the stage of his father's theater and he had had enough.

He found reprieve after his performance in the small villa provided to him in the lush countryside outside of Manchester. In front of a roaring fire he sat quietly reflecting on the post-performance pleasantries with a customary cup of tea before his slumber.

The ornate receiving room was filled with refreshments and admirers of the young virtuoso. Only one occupied his thoughts however, Sebastian Howle. He made his introduction when Edward was momentarily without companion during the long precession of critics. He offered his accolades and inquired of the new composition. They spoke well into the evening and rudely ignored the other patrons eager to offer their opinions of the night's performance to the well-known composer.

Sebastian was entranced by the impassioned boy as he spoke of his inspirations for the new piece. His eyes reminded him of Ireland's emerald untamed cliffs. They danced with excitement just like the tips of foamy white waves spattering against the rocks below. His hands moved with lively gestures as he spoke of his travels in Europe and beyond. The spark that he felt when he first observed the performer was now ablaze.

Edward was delighted but unsettled when the desirable male approached him. He recalled the stunning man from both the prior tour and the sinful lust-filled dreams that accompanied him in the months that followed. He could only stifle them in his moments of wakefulness but in the dark shadowy dreams at night he was powerless to his lusty fantasies. More often than not, he woke at the rising of the sun to soiled sheets covered with the remnants of his shame and remorse lying heavy within his heart.

Their conversation seemed only moments but as the previously congested room emptied, Edward realized their encounter had been lengthy. It saddened him to know that he would be parting from such a captivating exchange of ideas and similar experiences. Before he bid the charismatic man farewell, Edward ventured an invitation to dine with him the next eve to continue their discussions. The exuberant acceptance of his offer gave him pause. In the shadowy, stifled, and shameful place in his mind he dared hope that the long-wished-for-kiss from a prince would become reality.

His royal blue silk britches were too confining as he thought of the pale brunette. He stood gingerly from his cushioned perch and retreated to his bedchamber. His usually dexterous fingers pulled harshly at the highly wrought golden buttons of the hand-sewn waistcoat and dropped it the floor as if it were a maid's dish-towel. His britches followed closely behind adding to the pile of offensive clothes as he lay upon the soft velvet bed covers. The long linen night-shirt was his only modesty but it could neither obscure his throbbing ache nor the disgraceful wetness that it produced. His eyes fluttered shut as his mind brought forth images of the boy with brown hair upon his knees while his own hand wrapped around his prick.

The hospitable warmth of the late afternoon sun and the slow clip-clop of the horses appeased Sebastian's mental state as they traversed through the picturesque countryside to the quaint estate where he was to visit with arguably the most adored man in Britain. Those with a high musical intellect regarded him a master craftsman while others thought his youth to be a contemporary novelty. The desired attributes were a means to glorify their own station if found in his company and they fought with arsenals brimming of counterfeit smiles and feigned interest to gain his favor. Sebastian, however, gave no thought to Edward's status as a way to enrich his own. In fact, it would be prudent to remain without significance while in the maestro's accompaniment.

The well-dressed caretaker assisted Sebastian as he took leave of the carriage. He ascended the short curved staircase dressed in topiarys with an enthusiastic bounce in his step. He thought not of how a friendship would bring him rank but of the wondrous kinship they might share. Edward's mind was something to be explored and challenged like a virgin forest filled with feral ideals and undiscovered tributaries brimming with untold dreams.

Edward received his guest in the library and procured him an apéritif. After a simple greeting they easily fell into the contented debates left unfinished from the previous evening. A portly servant kindly interrupted and informed them of their impending meal. The dining chamber was richly decorated in gold and blue tapestries and velvet drapery framed the large dark windows. Tall candles stood pretentiously, casting warm shadows around the room. The silver cutlery and fine china sparkled in the candle's flicker.

"May I ask of your relations? Do they reside in London as well?" Sebastian saw the look of defeat on his face. "My apologies maestro, I meant no…"

Edward waved his hand dismissively. "No apology necessary. You are only hoping for polite conversation and I have managed to cast a bit of melancholy on this otherwise stimulating evening." He ran his hand through his unrestrained and unconcealed locks opting to forgo the usual periwig. He never liked the cumbersome fashion.

"Are they unwell?" Sebastian pursued.

"No, nothing as dire as that," Edward looked into the expression of his new friend and saw his concern. He felt a kinship with the young man sitting opposite himself and wondered if he would be a trustworthy confidant. He had never had an uncorruptable acquaintance before, including his sire. Sebastian was different somehow. He seemed genuinely interested in the well-being of the young musician.

"My father and I are not always agreeable although I have not made this known to him. He has an insatiable desire for the extravagant and holds dear the prominence my reputation affords him."

"That must be arduous task," Sebastian thought one so young as Edward shouldn't be burdened with sustaining a household. "Your father has no other means of support?"

"I have provided his station for the majority of my life. He finds no need for occupation," Edward felt the lumber of his affliction lessen upon his admittance. He had never spoken of his father in such a manner. He hoped that his instinct was correct with his new found companion.

"This tour is to be the last and I will inform him of this upon my return to London."

"It is to the detriment of you followers. You are most admired," he complimented. "I hope that your announcement will bring you peace."

Edward wasn't under the delusion that his father would simply concede to his petition but, to have someone who would share his tribulations was enough.

Conversation was diverted to lighter topics. Edward laughed at his recollection of a lullaby that he composed at the tender age of eight. Sebastian asked if he would be indulged to hear it. Edward filled with the cheerfulness of a child, stood immediately carrying with him the candlestick burdened with five flames to the music chamber. His companion thought his current attitude was most attractive and vowed to nourish it whenever in his presence.

The room was dark and held a bit of a chill. It had not been prepared to receive an audience this night and the hearth remained without warmth. The two occupants paid no mind to it. Edward placed the illuminant atop the harpsichord and seated himself. Sebastian was barred to see the twinkling child-like eyes as Edward closed them before the first notes were summoned.

Sebastian listened to the high-pitched sounds that reminded of youthful summers; pursuing butterflies and clambering up trees on sun-filled days or puddle jumping on the rain-soaked ones. The piece was light-hearted and carefree so different than its masters usual forte. Sebastian wondered if the compositions were a reflection of the progressive obligations bestowed on the maestro. He watched as the world-renowned musician reverted back into something more… unrefined. His joyful countenance was breathtaking, much more alluring than his usual stoic stature when performing for a gathering.

Sebastian watched the sinewy pale fingers dance on the onyx keys while his tall frame moved with the command of the melody. His lashes fluttered open when the music ceased and Sebastian once again felt the electric current that seemed to connect them when their eyes met. He was beautiful in the soft light flickering across his sharp features and hair in disarray. He was thankful he wasn't in the presence of a clairvoyant although he felt as if Edward could decipher his less than virtuous thoughts without telepathy.

Edward reveled in the whimsical imagery his piece evoked. Although less in complexity, it was profound and innocent with the pluck of every key. The acceptance on Sebastian's face was the one he longed for those many years ago from the man who regarded himself a father. It was not only approval of a child's creation but for the soul who sat before him. Sebastian placed a hand on Edward's forearm and squeezed gently. "Well done maestro, well done."

The warmth of Sebastian's hand travelled at speed through the entirety of Edward's body from apex to base. Heat rose from his chest staining his flawless pale skin to a blushing rose and goose skin blanketed him. He averted his gaze as he tried to compose himself. The small praise from the beautiful man contributed to his self-esteem more than the throngs of persons in all the theaters in Europe.

A friendship was born of that intimate dinner. Edward spent a large measure of his eighteenth tour in the Manchester and those towns framing the city much to his father's delight. He gave performances to spectators both great and small with Sebastian in attendance whenever possible. On days when Edward was at leisure they would spend time in galleries and museums where Sebastian would impart his great love and knowledge of history. He talked at length about great wars that shaped the world and the distinguished artists who captured them with a mere stroke of a brush.

Edward filled with anxiety as he read the letter in his father's ink. He was to attend his final act of the tour in the ornate theater of Manchester and requested an audience with his son in which to impart glorious news. Edward's heart plummeted. The only thing Carlisle coveted more than prestige was wealth. Edward strengthened his resolve to abandon his father's indulgences that he obtained at the composer's expense.

Sebastian snaked his way through the crowd of admirers, music aficionados, and critics searching for his maestro. His respect for the astonishingly beautiful man flourished as did his affections for him during the short cold days of winter. He knew their time of invigorating afternoon excursions and languid afternoon teas would culminate with his final concert. When Sebastian exhausted all the possible places where Edward might preside indoors he ventured out to the balcony as the final pursuit of his hunt.

The night air was chilled when he stepped out on the immense terrace. He spotted a lover's embrace hidden in the alcove at his right and averted his gaze to the left as he took his leave. To his surprise he found the purpose of his quest unaccompanied on the opposite side alcove bench. He sat next to the seemingly unaware creature whose eyes remained closed as his head and back reclined against the cold theater exterior.

Edward knew innately who dared to approach him so… familiarly. It had become a common occurrence to find a hand of comfort resting upon his shoulder or arm but never in a conspicuous setting. Sebastian's touch was soothing and he yearned for it but it still elicited the unsavory fantasies that Edward kept in the dark recesses of his mind. He acknowledged the contact as a brotherly gesture and kept his inner turmoil concealed.

Sebastian could no longer restrain his desire to feel the skin of the conductor's skillful fingers. At every opportunity he initiated the spark-filled sensation of grazing his fingertips along the silk covered arm in hopes to convey his true feelings. He no longer denied to himself of the salacious thoughts for him. He yearned to declare his deepest wish but held his tongue for fear of rejection. If Sebastian's feelings were not mutual, he could be liberated from his new-found friendship completely. If Edward suspected the meaning behind his actions, he never conveyed unhappiness which gave Sebastian hope of the possibility.

He inquired of Edward's father and if his plans had remained unchanged. Edward nodded despondently. It was apparent that he didn't expect sympathy from his sire and loathed the looming exchange. Sebastian rested a hand unconsciously on the forearm of the dispirited and on his shoulder where the weight was so heavy.

Edward's eyes opened to Sebastian and both sensed the air transform around them. Without thought of consequence Sebastian lifted the wrist of the beautiful man before him to lips, his eyes unwavering with the others. Edward gasped at the evident display. The implications of the action were no longer brotherly and relief was his primary emotion. Sebastian rolled the delicate pale wrist and once more ventured a kiss to the soft virgin skin. Edward's cock filled at the erotic gesture. A stillness came over them as Sebastian lowered the precious hand to his thigh as he loathe to release it. With moment of clarity and presence of mind Edward looked out of the niche created of newly discovered revelations and… lust to ensure no prying eyes bear witness. When his eyes returned to Sebastian his only utterance was "please". Sebastian smiled and bestowed one a last squeeze to Edward's shoulder and left at speed to ready Edward's carriage.

The journey to the villa seemed to have grown in length as the darkened coach filled with anticipation in the space between them. Neither spoke fearing the embers growing within them would extinguish with the sound of their voices. Edward dismissed the servants immediately upon arrival citing they would be retiring for the evening and had no need of assistance.

The confidence from earlier seemed to disappear from Sebastian and had no thought as to how to recapture the moment from earlier on the terrace. Edward wiped away all doubt with a small buss to the cheek before retreating to his bed chamber. Sebastian stood for a brief pause to gather his nerve before following his maestro's lead.

Sebastian noticed the maestro's brilliant red waistcoat lay pristinely over the high-backed chair upon his entrance. The owner gazing out at the moonlit gardens and did not acknowledge the metallic click of the door latch. Sebastian moved to stand in the shadow of the contemplative man who dare open his soul to him. He shed his own outer covering before placing his hand in the crux of the shadow-maker's back. With his free hand he circled his waist and fumbled the opening of his maestro's britches. Another soul-bearing layer fell with a whoosh as Sebastian's hand grazed Edward's obvious approval of his actions.

Edward step out of his polished black buckled shoes and turned to face Sebastian in a swift movement and kissed him soundly while his fingers found purchase in the silken hair beneath the periwig. He moved on instinct without experience to draw from and pressed his chest to the man who filled his nightly thoughts. His emulated fantasies paled when faced with their originator.

Sebastian's touched the skin that lay just below the hem of Edward's shirt. Using the tips of his fingers to lift the only modesty Edward possessed and broke the kiss only for a moment to relieve him of it. The exposed man grasped Sebastian by the nape with both hands and pulled him with force to a desperate kiss that tossed them on the bed. Sebastian could only follow as he was pulled and then rolled on the bed. Garments were strewn haphazardly in Edward's desperation to rid his lover's inhibitions.

After the last article floated to the floor, Edward stood for a moment to gaze upon the erection of another man. In all of his worldly tours, never once had he seen one standing proud. He had visited all the galleries filled with glimpses of portraits and statues of those hung flaccid. He thought it to be terrifyingly beautiful.

Although Sebastian had seen the seedy "Alley" and the nightly performances for onlookers he was also bereft of knowledge or experience. Nor would he tarnish the maestro of such filth. Never would this beautiful creature who stood before him be subjected to the grotesque landscape of Manchester's sordid entertainment. He was meant for theaters on the grandest scales and picturesque field of heather.

Sebastian held out a hand silently asking his lover to lain with him. Edward tentatively lie sidelong the only completely exposed person, man or woman, he had ever seen. His prick grazed its mate with an inadvertent wet greeting causing a gasp in unison. Edward reached between them with nervous fingers. His lover felt hot and heavy in his hand it only served to encourage his own excited state. Sebastian mimicked his lover in both pressure and pace as soft whimpers and moans filled the dark room.

Edward watched his bulbous head retreat and reemerge from his lover's fist and felt the familiar coil in his loin that signaled his impending release. He paid no heed to the whispering shadows that spoke of sin and impropriety. The darkness in the corners of his mind illuminated with the touch of Sebastian's devoted hand and empathetic expression. He could never associate his lover with reprehensible deeds or inappropriate behavior. How could anything lovely as this be… sinful?

A small moan escaped Sebastian's rose-colored lips as he spilled his seed into Edward's hand and was the impetus of his own release. Edward kissed his lover chastely as their heaving chests and pounding hearts slowed. "I love you" fell from his lips as his eyes flutter shut. They drifted in and out of dreams during the night and engaged many times in their new-found pleasures only to repeat the sequence again and again. As dawn broke Sebastian stared at his sleeping lover through blurry tear-filled eyes, he traced his finger over the contours of his lover's face. His heart spilling over and a whispered "I love you, too" was directed to the sleeping composer.

It was midday when Edward greeted his father. Carlisle stood near the hearth as he awaited his son's appearance. He journeyed the short trip from accommodations in the city opting not to accept Edward's invitation to stay with him at the villa. This had worked in Edward's favor as he recalled the glorious evening with Sebastian.

"Sir," Edward greeted his father. "I trust you slept well and your lodgings were to your liking?" Edward's voice remained indifferent. He knew of the mistress his father kept and his predilection toward Edward's touring this area.

"Yes, most agreeable," Carlisle nodded and waved his hand dismissively. "I wanted to discuss another tour of great importance. Berlin has offered to…"

"I will do no more tours," Edward's eyes did not waver from his father's. "I am retiring from…"

"Silence! I will not listen to that drivel."

"I am no longer in need of your charge," Edward's voice was firm and unyielding. "Nor am I required to fill your outlandish extravagances."

"You dare speak to me with such insolence. My headship is why you have prosper…"

"My musical endowment was the reasoning for my station. Not any of your manipulations," his father stood in disbelief. His face reddened with anger.

"I will allow my mother to remain in the London house, I would never leave her bereft and if she chooses to remain loyal to you than I give her my blessing. If not, I will have you removed forcibly," Edward explained. "You will no longer have influence of me or my wealth. Mother will receive an allowance to see that she lives comfortably. If I am made aware of any transgression, including your supplementary bed-mates, I will see to it that you lose all of your influences."

"Edward, this is madness! You can't possibly…"

"It's already been arranged." Edward announced. "Now if you will excuse me, I have other guests to attend. Good day sir," he watched as his father stormed out and entered his carriage. When he saw them round the first bend in the road he turned and walked quickly to where his lover hid. Upon opening the door, Sebastian pounced. The kiss was long and deep.

"Well done, maestro. Well done," Sebastian praised to his lover.

* * *

**A/N: I want to thank Fiction of fans for the opportunity to work on this. Patience is a virtue of which you are in plenty. I enjoyed the challange and your words were inspiring. Thank you. Ant1gon3**


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